Panther Eye Part 22

"That's cheerful," said Johnny. "What time?"

"Before dawn."

"That's rotten soon," said Johnny. "I don't think I'll stay to see it."

"I guess you will," said the stranger.

There seemed nothing more to be said, so the two new-found friends lay there in silence. Each was busy with his own thoughts. Johnny's were mostly of Mazie and of the thousands of starving children they had hoped to aid.

"It's sure rotten luck," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed at last.

Just at that moment the great iron gate was heard to creak on its hinges.

Other wretches were being pitched inside to await their doom.

The door was so deeply set in the wall that nothing could be seen of the newly arrived prisoners.

As Johnny lay wondering what they were like, he heard a shrill whisper:

"Johnny! Johnny Thompson!"

"Here!" he whispered back.

There were sounds of a person crawling toward him, the curse of a Russian who had been disturbed in what was probably his last sleep; then Johnny's lips uttered a low exclamation. He had caught the dull gleam of a golden ball of fire.

"Pant," he murmured.

"It's me, Johnny." The boy's hand touched him.

Johnny was dumfounded. "How'd they get you?"

"Beaned one of them cops, I did. Saw 'em glom onto you. Wanted t' horn in with you."

"Guess you horned in once too often," said Johnny huskily. "This is a death-watch we're keeping, and it's for ourselves."

"We better blow the coop then."

"If we can."

"We can." Pant's tone was decided and convincing.

For some time after that the two boys spoke of their experiences since last they met.

"You see, I got it cached out yonder three hills and a hike outside this burg. She'll tip the beam at a century weight and a half, maybe more. All pure gold, you bet. And it's all for the little Russian kids, every bit. I ain't held back a copper."

Johnny, knowing that Pant was speaking of the gold he had taken from Mine No. 3 and had sledded nearly three thousand miles to Vladivostok at risk of his life, could only grip his hand and swallow hard.

"Gee!" said Pant, when Johnny had finished his story. "We'll have to find that Mazie of yours, and quick. But we've got to get out of here first."

He was ready with his plans after a moment's thought. Prisoners were being brought in every ten or fifteen minutes. There were no lights in the prison and the military police carried none. The place was pitch dark. He did not say that he could see well enough, but, from past experiences, Johnny knew that he could. They would creep close to the iron gate and, when it was opened to admit others, they would crawl out on hands and knees.

"And if luck's bad, then this," said Pant, slipping a small dagger into Johnny's hand.

"You got one, too?"

"Sure."

"All right."

They crept close to the gate and waited. Five minutes pa.s.sed. Ten minutes of dreadful silence went by with never an approaching footstep. Johnny's heart beat painfully. What if the last poor victim had been brought to await his doom? Dawn would be breaking, and then the firing squad. Cold perspiration beaded his forehead.

But hold! there came again the shuffle of feet. A lone prisoner was being brought in.

"Now!" came in a faint whisper. A steady hand gripped his arm. He felt himself led forward. A foot sc.r.a.ped his knee. It was the incoming prisoner. He uttered no sound.

They were now on the outside of the gate. Flattening themselves against the wall, not daring to breathe, they waited.

Turning, the police clicked their heels and marched away. Outside, before the open anteway, marched a solitary guard. Once they were past him, they were safe.

Fortune favored them. The man hazarded a moment off duty to step into a door for a cup of coffee. In that moment, they were away.

"Easy," said Pant. "Should have brought your friend, the Roosian."

"He wouldn't come," said Johnny sorrowfully. "Said it wasn't any use."

"All we got to do's keep hid till mornin'."

They escaped from the alley through a gate into a garden, and there, in a shed against the side of a brick building, they waited for the morning.

As they lay there half awake, there came to Johnny's ears the words of a ridiculous popular song of other days:

"Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on, Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! How you come on!"

"Sounds like Mazie," whispered Johnny, starting to his feet. "It _is_ Mazie. They've got her hid up there!"

Pant pulled him back to earth. "If it's Mazie, they've got men watchin'.

No good to spill the beans. To-morrow night we'll make up a bunch an' git 'em."

Realizing the wisdom of these words, Johnny quieted his mad desire to rush the place at once, and sat down.

Just as the first red streaks striped the sky, there came a loud volley of shots.

Johnny plugged his ears and s.h.i.+vered. Perhaps they were executing the prisoners. Who could tell?

CHAPTER XIX

JOHNNY GOES INTO ACTION